


no race to be run

by scandalous



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [20]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Banter, Breathplay, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Submissive Crowley (Good Omens), Tenderness, Weird Biology, they both have vulvas but it doesnt rly matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 11:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: Demons don't need to breathe. That doesn't stop Crowley from wanting Aziraphale to choke him.





	no race to be run

**Author's Note:**

> for seasonofkink with the square 'breathplay' and 15kisses with the prompt 'curiosity'.
> 
> enjoy!

As one could expect, demons don’t need to breathe to live.

Demons don’t need to do anything to live. They just do. Food, air, water, sleep— any of that is unnecessary. Considering Crowley has been the only demon up on Earth for most of its existence, he’s the only one who knows of the pleasures of food and sleep. But most importantly, perhaps, it’s how he’s grown used to breathing.

At first, it started as something to pass off as human. He still remembers when people stared at him, at the way he never blinked or never took in air, always seemingly motionless. So he had started to take it up as a habit of sorts, to breathe from time to time, until it becomes a thing he likes, just like sleeping or watching Aziraphale eat. Food is still not something he enjoys very much, perhaps because of the curse put on him. Eat dust for the rest of his days, something or the other.

“You don’t need to breathe, you know?” Aziraphale asks as he corners him against a wall, a plump hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. The fact he’s heavier than Crowley helps in times like this, he thinks as arousal pulses through him, being pressed right against the wall with ease, Aziraphale’s tummy pressing against his own as he towers over him by an inch or two. 

“I know,” he breathes, wriggling around. “Ngk. But it’s just— so nice to pretend, isn’t it, angel?”

“Yes,” he says softly, his hand going from his shoulder to his thin neck in one swift motion. His hands are nice, perfectly manicured, a pale shade of pink as he wraps it around his throat without any issue, a small smile on his lips.

“Angel,” he says, tilting his head back against the wall of his flat, feeling himself get wetter.

“Yes, dear?” he asks, squeezing ever so gently, like he will break him if he does it any harder, if he actually cuts off his air.

He whimpers. “Please, angel. Please choke me, angel.”

Aziraphale tilts his head, leans in to kiss him. His smile makes him weak at the knees. “Why do you like this so much, dear?” He’s not judging, not necessarily. He’s just…  _ curious _ , as Aziraphale usually is. With that unsatiable gluttony for knowing everything, for having everything, for having him under his grasp as he begs to be controlled. Being under Aziraphale’s mercy makes everything so much easier.

“Angel,” he says. “Are you really asking that question now?”

“Yes.”

He swallows thickly, looks at his eyes. Aziraphale stares right back into his, his snake pupils he hides away from everyone but him. He can deal with Aziraphale seeing him, yes, he always can deal with Aziraphale seeing him and he’ll be fine with it.

“Well,” he starts. “It’s just… it’s just the vulnerability. I don’t have my life in your hands, your hand, not necessarily, but—”

“I think I could inconveniently discorporate you from this,” he says, squeezing once again, making him whimper out in pleasure, hips bucking up into the air. 

“Ah yes,” he tries to scoff at him, “that’ll be great to tell the higher-ups about.  _ Heya, I know you think I’m no longer one of you, but I’m back here because my angel husband choked me to discorporation _ .”

“I’m sure they’d like that,” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss Crowley’s jaw. “But, anyhow, I’ll try to not get to that extreme, if you don’t mind. Unless you want them to know I’m choking you?”

Crowley sticks his tongue out at him. “Shush. I don’t want them to know that I’m still a demon or that you’re choking me. Just get to it already.”

Aziraphale laughs softly. “Of course, dear boy,” he tells him before he squeezes.

He immediately goes slack against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure floods him. He whimpers softly, shuddering as his nails dig right into the wall, letting Aziraphale prolong that sweet torture for as much as he likes. He can’t help but like it, to love being so vulnerable, so open, so— so right in the moment with him.

“You like it, love?” he asks as he releases, letting Crowley have a big gulp of air, his head swimming with desire. 

“Yes,” he says shakily. “Yes. Please, Aziraphale, please—”

Aziraphale doesn’t need to be asked again. He leans in to kiss him and he smiles wide as he squeezes around his throat.


End file.
